The Sirens

Where the sirens live, you sail their oceans;

Their singing makes fools love their destruction.

Wretched is the soul, whom the music calls

To siren shores and under their spell falls.

That poor chump will not see the joys of life,

His growing kids, or his beautiful wife!

On rocky outcrops, they wait; human bones

Nestle and settle in the cracks of stones.

Away now, escape this horrible coast.

Avoid listening to them or you’ll be toast!

The Odyssey, Book XII, attrib. Homer, translated by Solomon Jedidiah (1865)